One Day at a Time
by MKandtheforce
Summary: Shortly after Sirius' death, Harry finds solace in a new "hobby", but comfort in the arms of his old professor. Warnings: Self-harm. No slash.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't HP. If I did, Lupin would def. have not died. ;D

**Chapter 1 -- Return to 12 Grimmauld Place**

_Why _did they have to come back here?! Harry thought bitterly. He looked grimly around the corridor, and he could hear Mrs. Black's familiar shrieks of "Blood traitors! Filth!" Quickly, however, Lupin emerged from another room and pulled back the curtains. He smiled weakly.

"Welcome back?" he said, amused.

"Hi, Remus!" Ron said cheerfully. "Keeping things under control here?"

"For the most part," he replied, smiling.

Harry gnawed his lower lip. Why was everyone being so sickeningly cheerful? This was where Sirius was caged until the day of his death, yet everyone was acting as though everything was just peachy.

According to Mrs. Weasley, the reason they needed to come back 12 Grimmauld place was because of a long string of meeting with the order, and they thought it would just be easier to stay here until the summer holidays were over. In Harry's opinion, this was bullshit. This place _smelled _like it could drive a person crazy. Like Sirius...

It had been... how long? Just over a month since he died? It still felt like he should be here. Harry felt his throat tightening. Sirius was the closest thing to a father that he had. And now he was dead. But here everyone was, acting as though nothing was wrong. Didn't people _get it_?? The man who owned this house was _dead_, and they were making _jokes_?

"Earth to Harry!"

Harry snapped out of his reverie. "What?" he asked Ron sheepishly.

"Remus just asked you if you wanted anything to eat."

"Oh," he replied distantly. "No, thanks. We had a big breakfast back at the Burrow."

"Mum made her fantastic banana-chocolate chip pancakes," Ron immediately babbled on. "The chocolate chips were melted _perfectly_--"

"Oh, honestly, Ron, is food all you think about?" Hermione demanded with a sigh. Lupin laughed. Harry didn't.

"I'm going to bring my stuff up to our room," he told Ron. As predicted, Ron only nodded in acknowledgement of Harry's words as he launched into some kind of retort to Hermione's remark.

Hoisting his trunk by a handle with one hand and Hedwig's empty cage with another, he lugged them up the stairs glumly. Truth be told, he didn't want to be near anyone right now. He wanted a good, long bout of solitude before having to force himself back into their happy world. He needed time to himself to remember Sirius, to honor his memory. Even though that was pretty much all he had been doing while he was at home with the Dursleys, being back at 12 Grimmauld Place made him feel he had to even more.

He lazily dropped his stuff at the foot of the bed he had slept in the summer before. He then sank onto the bed, wanting to nap, but knowing it would be impossible to do so. It wasn't even noon. He had no reason to nap. Instead, he sat back up, and restlessly went back to his trunk. He thought for a moment, then opened it, taking out the knife that he had hidden beneath the top layer of clothes.

Robotically rolling up his sleeve, he pressed the knife against his inner arm, pressing it deep enough to cut, then running the blade across his skin. It was almost a relief when the cut began to thrum in pain. It gave him something different to think about. It broke Harry's numbness. He watched the blood bubble up out of the cut, and he closed his eyes. With that, he repeated the process again, giving himself another two cuts before putting the knife back into his trunk and pulling his sleeve down.

He had only begun to experiment with this new method of coping a week after Sirius' death. He had been relieved that it broke the numbness he felt, and before he knew it, his arms and chest were covered with cuts and scabs.

He had no sooner slammed the lid on his trunk than the door burst open, and Ron sauntered in. "Honestly, I don't _only _eat, do I, Harry?"

Harry forced a laugh. "Of course not, Ron. You sleep a lot, too."

Ron rolled his eyes. "Some friend you are."

Harry only smiled wanly. He could feel his arm continuing to pulsate with the three newest cuts. He'd get over it. He just had to take it one day at a time.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2 -- Arguing with a Reflection

Ron's loud snores weren't what was keeping Harry awake. He found he had a lot of trouble getting to sleep lately. He sighed, and looked out the window from where he lay in bed. It was only a half-moon tonight, but it was enough to give him something to see by. With another brief glance at Ron, he quickly pulled his arm out from under the blanket and rolled the sleeves of his pajamas up.

His three newest cuts were now only rough, brittle scabs. The other cuts were mixes of both scabs of different levels of healing and milky white scars. He reached for his glasses and sat up. Maybe he should just take some of his Muggle sleeping pills, he thought glumly, or else he would never get to sleep.

All he was thinking about, actually, was of all the horrible things that had happened. Harry typically wasn't a dweller, but Sirius' death had been what finally pushed him over the edge. But all he could think about now was how he let Wormtail escape, how Cedric died, how it had been his fault that Dumbledore had been sent into that temporary exile, how Sirius himself had died...

Jerkily, he got out of bed and back to his trunk. While taking a sleeping potion would be more effective, he knew it would take too long to make on such short notice, and Ron would probably ask him a ton of questions. No, Muggle sleeping pills were cheap, discreet, and effective, even if they weren't instantaneous. Pulling out a knife and a box of the pills, he slipped out of the room and into the washroom, locking the door behind him.

He set the lid of the toilet down, and sat on it for a moment, closing his eyes. He was exhausted, but the sleeping pills would help. Then he would sleep whether he wanted to or not. Filling the glass by the sink, he took a couple pills and drank them down. Now all he had to do was wait.

He looked into the mirror. Harry's mass of black hair was even more untidy now that he had been tossing and turning in his bed. His green eyes were bloodshot. Tentatively, he unbuttoned his shirt, and flung it to the ground carelessly. Now, in the mirror, his reflection now showed his white scars and angry scabs.

"What did you do this to yourself for, you idiot?" his reflection demanded, looking down at itself. "Some kind of dumb adolescent angst?"

"Shut up," Harry mumbled back. He forgot how mean the reflections here at the House of Black were.

"Oh, believe me, I can talk all I want," the reflection continued. "There's no point in slicing up yourself like this. Do you really think doing this will bring that Black boy back? It's pointless, just a way for you to feel like you're doing something, even though you're just lying around sulking--"

"SHUT UP!" Harry roared, and stormed from the mirror back to the toilet, and sat back down on the lid. Tears quickly began to stream down his face, unable to be stopped. How a _reflection _had gotten him this worked up, he didn't know, but he did know that it was right. He _was _lying around sulking, unable to do anything. It was his own fault Sirius was dead, so why _was _he acting this way?

Unable to stop the tears, Harry held his face in his hands, letting out a loud, unavoidable sob. He simply couldn't stop himself.

He didn't know how long he sobbed, but it did stop rather abruptly when he heard a gentle knock at the door.

"Are you all right in there?" It was Lupin.

Harry clenched his teeth to make sure his body didn't betray him anymore. Did Lupin know it was him in here? To be on the safe side, he held his silence, trying to let his breathing return to normal.

"Hello?" Lupin called, knocking. "Who's in here? Are you all right?"

Perfect. Lupin didn't know it was him. With a shaky hand, Harry grabbed his shirt and pulled it on, buttoning it over his scarred chest. Now, Lupin seemed to get the hint, and Harry could hear his footsteps fading away. Quickly, Harry dashed cold water on his face (avoiding looking at his reflection) and grabbed the box of pills and his knife. He had to leave before someone else decided to check on whoever was crying in the washroom.

"Running away as usual, eh, cutter boy?" sneered his reflection. "I'll probably see you again soon."

Harry wished it was possible to kill his own reflection.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3 -- Out of 12 Grimmauld Place**

The day was painfully boring. Harry, for lack of anything else to do, worked on some of his summer homework with Hermione, and then he played chess with Ron to pass another couple of hours. For the most part, he avoided the different people who came into 12 Grimmauld Place for Order meetings, particularly Snape. He still didn't know if he could look that man in the eye after what happened at the Ministry. He also didn't want to see anyone who would try to wish their condolences. Ron and Hermione knew well enough to stay away from the subject, but that didn't mean everyone would know. Mundungus, for example, had muttered something about Sirius being a "great man" to Harry, who could only fire mental insults to the con.

"I'm bored," he finally announced to Ron and Hermione. Hermione looked up from the book she was reading.

"Do you know how to say anything else, Harry?" she asked in exasperation. That was all he had been saying all day.

"I think we should explore around a little bit," he suggested. Ron raised a red eyebrow.

"No offense, Harry, but I think I've seen more of this house than I ever wanted to," he replied uncertainly. Harry let out a barking laugh.

"No, I mean like, the area around here. I mean, we've been in here a lot, but we haven't really explored the streets, you know?" he suggested. Hermione quickly put her foot down.

"Absolutely not. It's unsafe," she replied reproachfully. Harry rolled his eyes.

"Look, all those Muggle get to wander around all the time without being killed," he argued. "We'll be fine."

"You're not a Muggle, Harry. You're--"

"The Chosen One. I know. But if you think I'm going to rot in here like Sirius did, you a very much mistaken," Harry fired back. He knew he was becoming too passionate, but he couldn't stop himself.

"Harry--" Ron tried to say, but Harry interrupted.

"No. I'm tired of this shit," he snarled, standing. Ron's jaw dropped, and Hermione began to look frightened.

"Harry, no, why don't you ask someone else to go? I'm sure Remus or Tonks would like to go--"

"I am _not _going to be fucking babysat!" he snapped. "I'm leaving."

"Harry--"

It was too late. Harry stormed out of the house, slamming the door. He was livid, and not just at Ron and Hermione. As he heard Mrs. Black screeching "Blood traitor brats! Scum of the earth!", he mumbled, "Keep going, you old hag." He was taking the compliments into himself. He had just cursed at his best friends.

He wandered the streets for the rest of the day. He knew that members of the Order were probably tailing him, but he didn't care. He just wanted to breathe. At one point, he managed to make his way into a public washroom, and he sighed as he closed the stall door behind him.

He had hidden his knife in this pants pocket, in case he needed a quick escape that day. Good thing he had it, he thought blandly, pushing up his sleeve and pressing the blade hard against his skin. _There's one for being an ass to Ron, _he thought at the first slice. _There's one for Hermione. There's one for Sirius. There's one for Cedric..._

By the time he had calmed himself down, he had ten new cuts. He rarely did this many in one sitting, but hey, there was a first time for everything.

When he got out of the stall, he decided to wash his face quickly in the sink. Splashing water on his face here gave him an odd sense of relief. He didn't know if it was because he had cut himself so much this time, but then it hit him. The reason he was relieved was because there was no bloody reflection yelling at him this time. He looked up at his non-magical reflection and smiled weakly. For once, it seemed that Muggle were lucky that they didn't have magic. Muggles never had to get yelled at by their own reflection.


	4. Chapter 4

This is... a much bigger chapter. o.o;; I didn't mean to, but I felt it was high time for some fluffystuffs. It was a hard chapter for me to write-- I tried to keep it as realistic as possible, and I tried incorporating stuff from my own experiences. I hope it doesn't disappoint! And there will be more to come, no worries. ;]  
_Lily16Snape _-- I concur, hehe. I was wicked surprised at the lack of this kind of story, and I wanted to write one, so... yeah.

**Chapter 4 -- Caught**

Surprise, surprise, he didn't get killed during his little escapade. Harry came back just as the sun was setting, seemingly chipper as ever. Oddly, nobody seemed to comment on his little explosion. Mrs. Weasley didn't even have anything to say about his disappearance. However, she must've known he had gone somewhere, judging by how short she was acting with him. Harry was slightly hurt by that, but he brushed it off. He could worry about it later.

For now, he wanted to find Ron and Hermione, and prove he was just as normal as ever. Unsurprisingly, they were both in Harry and Ron's room, murmuring something to each other.

"Hi, guys," Harry said cheerfully, bursting in. Hermione jumped, surprised at the sudden, boisterous intrusion of the person they had been talking about.

"Oh... hi, Harry," she said meekly. Ron just looked at him oddly.

"So, what do you want to do tonight?" he asked with a little too much enthusiasm. He plopped on the bed and looked at the pair expectantly. Ron and Hermione looked at each other. "What is it?" Harry asked, now somewhat uncertain.

"Well, Harry, we just wanted to talk to you... you know... about what happened earlier..." Hermione said uneasily. Harry's defenses quickly went up.

"Look, Harry, we just don't like how you treated us earlier," Ron finally said, his voice brimming with exasperation. "And now you come back here, acting like everything is all perfect and stuff--"

"Well, I didn't like what you were saying to _me_!" he shot back. Ron stared. Angrily, Harry threw open his trunk, fishing around in it for his sleeping pills. "I never said anything was all perfect," Harry snapped, rummaging around for his pajamas to hide the pills in. "You just assume that I'm this horrible person who... who..."

He was lost for words, so he contented himself with grinding his teeth as he discreetly wrapped the box of pills in his pajamas. "I'm sleeping in another room tonight. Maybe Sirius' or something. Since he doesn't need it anymore."

With that, he stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him. Great, he thought angrily to himself. Now he was acting like a petulant child. Instead of going into Sirius' room, he found himself back in the washroom he had been in the night before. Immediately, he heard his reflection say, "I knew you'd be back."

"SHUT THE HELL UP!" he screamed at his reflection. He knew Ron and Hermione could probably hear him, and they probably thought he was crazy, but he didn't care. Throwing off his shirt, he stared at himself in the mirror. Fortunately, his reflection fell silent as Harry looked himself up and down. So many scars, he thought. But so much unmarred skin.

Taking his knife out of his pocket, he began to viciously carve a giant "X" into his chest. He was so full of rage at himself that he almost hoped his hand might slip and rip him open. He wanted to bleed, he wanted the emotions that were building up in him to just _go away_.

He dropped the knife on the floor and bent over the sink, sobbing yet again. He knew that little beads of blood were forming on the newest cuts he had made, but he didn't even give himself the pleasure of looking at them.

Again, there was a knock at the door.

"Go away!" Harry shouted, even though he knew he was giving himself away as the boy who was crying in the washroom.

"Harry, open the door, please," the voice replied. It was Lupin. Harry swore.

"I don't want to talk to you right now!" Harry yelled back. He could imagine Lupin was sighing.

"_Alohamora,_" he heard. Frantically, Harry tried to pick up his shirt and pull it on, but Lupin opened the door faster.

Harry couldn't watch as Lupin entered. Instead, he slid to the floor, holding his shirt in front of him, his head bent onto his knees. Quietly, he heard the door close, but he knew that Lupin hadn't left.

"Harry, what's going on?" Lupin asked quietly, bending to Harry's level.

"Nothing," he mumbled. He felt his hand touch his shoulder.

"Listen, Harry, I know something's wrong. You don't usually--" he stopped, and Harry could feel his fingers going over a series of scars. Harry froze, then recoiled.

"Is it Sirius?" Lupin asked quietly. Silently, Harry nodded, still averting his gaze. Gently, Lupin tugged at Harry's shirt, which Harry let go of. "Can you sit back, Harry?" he asked, saying nothing about the cuts. Obediently, Harry did so, and he finally chanced a look at Lupin. The older man was frowning, studying the "X" Harry had just made on himself.

Lupin probably though he was disgusting, Harry thought, feeling as though he had reached rock bottom. If Lupin hated him, then he really did have no redemption.

"We need to get that washed, Harry," Lupin finally said. Harry looked up warily as Lupin got up, unsure what to think. "It's still too fresh, I don't want it to risk getting infected," he explained. Uncertainly, Harry stood slowly.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled as Lupin reached for a washcloth. Lupin frowned.

"Don't be," he replied firmly as he wetted the cloth. "You didn't do anything wrong." Harry felt almost as though he were in a dream state as Lupin gently blotted the red "X" on Harry's chest. He wished he could read Lupin's mind as he did so. What was he thinking? He couldn't understand why this man would do something like this for him.

"They don't look too deep," Lupin murmured. "I've got some bandages and some salve in my room that we can use, so we can take care of that there."

"Why are you doing this?" Harry finally asked, his voice hoarse. Lupin smiled weakly.

"Because I know that you weren't planning on doing it."

"That's not what I mean," Harry replied, exasperated. "I mean... I can take care of myself."

"And that's the point," Lupin replied simply. "Time to give someone else a turn."

That shut Harry up for the time being. Lupin took advantage of that moment by taking off his outer shirt and wrapping it around Harry. Being taller, Lupin's shirt was baggy around Harry, which was suitable to cover up the markings on Harry's chest. With that, Lupin opened the door and steered Harry around the corner to his room.

Harry was grateful that nobody else was in the hall. His normal room with Ron had the door closed, and he felt guilt stab at his gut. Ron and Hermione probably didn't want anything else to do with him.

Lupin's room was very plain, probably due to the fact that he didn't live there full time. Still, he had a flask settled on the desk, a trunk at the foot of his bed, and a calendar with the full moons clearly labeled hanging on the wall. After closing the door behind them, Lupin walked over to his desk, and pulled out a neatly organized drawer, full of first aid supplies.

"Good thing I'm a werewolf, for once," he told Harry, trying to lighten the mood. "I always have some first aid things handy in case I hurt myself during that time of the month." He chuckled. Harry didn't laugh. He was still too tense, and the guilt he felt about Ron and Hermione made him want to have his knife again. But, he thought regrettably, he left it lying on the floor of the washroom.

He came over to Harry, with something in a jar and a roll of bandages. "You can have a seat," he added hastily, seeing as the boy was still standing, clinging to Lupin's shirt around him. Obediently, Harry sat. Lupin pulled up the chair and sat in front of him, gently urging Harry's hands off the shirt so that he could take it off.

"So, as we're doing this, why don't you tell me what's going on with you, Harry?" he said gently, taking some of the salve and rubbing it onto Harry's cut. Harry flinched at the mild sting, but he was more distracted by Lupin's question.

"Er..." he said dumbly. He didn't know what to say.

"It _is _Sirius," he stated thoughtfully. That much they had already covered. "Are you upset about him still?" Timidly, Harry nodded.

"It..." He hesitated. Lupin looked up at him, his eyes warmly urging him on. "It's all my fault that..." Harry stopped to take a breath as Lupin unwound the bandages and began to wrap them around Harry's chest. "It's my fault that he's dead. And... Nobody else seems to get it. They just... carry on, with everything, but Sirius, he's... gone..."

"Harry," Lupin said quietly, binding up the bandage. "It isn't your fault that he's dead. Sirius knew what he was getting into when he went to the Department of Mysteries. And he was closest with you-- maybe that's why they don't seem to understand as much."

"He was my godfather," Harry said, his voice getting quieter. "He... I was going to _live _with him... He was my _family_..."

That opened the floodgates. He pushed his hands beneath his glasses, covering his eyes so Lupin wouldn't see the shame of his tears. However, to his surprise, Lupin gently pulled him into his chest. Instead of tearing himself away, Harry clung to Lupin, an action he found he was doing more out of instinct and need than anything else. The sobs erupted loudly from inside of Harry the more he spoke.

"And now I keep pissing everyone off, but I can't stop myself! They're going on just fine, but why can't I just go on? Why am I stuck thinking about him-- and everything-- _all the time_?!" The sobs that wracked his thin body finally made it so he could no longer speak. He just continued sobbing, clinging to Lupin as the man held him.

Lupin was murmuring something in a comforting tone, but Harry couldn't make out what it was. But it probably didn't matter. As long as Lupin held him, Harry could be comforted.

Fortunately, Lupin seemed to know this. The older man, still holding onto Harry, slid over onto the bed beside him and began rubbing his back gently. "You'll be all right, Harry," Lupin murmured as Harry's massive sobs began to subside. "You need time to grieve, and I don't think Ron and Hermione understand that. But it's okay to grieve-- it's healthy to do so."

"But I hate feeling this way," Harry whispered.

"I know," Lupin replied softly. Suddenly, Harry felt another pang of guilt. How could Lupin be so calm and collected when he was probably closer with Sirius than Harry was?! He was acting _stupid_. Again, Harry's sobs started afresh and harder than ever, and all Lupin could do was to hold Harry even tighter.

With gentle firmness, Lupin eased Harry's legs up and onto the bed, keeping one hand wrapped around Harry at all times. "You're going to sleep here tonight, all right, Harry?" he told him. Harry didn't respond. He was still shaking with sobs, but he was trying to think it through. He certainly didn't want to burden Lupin, who was being so patient with him already, but he didn't want to see Ron or Hermione while he was like this.

"Are you sure I can't just sleep in one of the empty rooms?" he asked, his voice choked with sobs.

"Yes," Lupin said, leaving no room in his tone for arguing. "I don't want you to keep hurting yourself. I'm going to stay with you, and I'm not going to leave you, all right?"

Shakily, Harry nodded, and Lupin grabbed up the throw that was folded at the end of the bed, covering both himself and Harry as he laid both of themselves down. Though Harry was loathe to admit it, he was relieved that Lupin was being so caring toward him. Even though he thought that Lupin was only doing this out of obligation, being held like this was calming and comforting. He let his head collapse into Lupin's chest, and close his eyes.

Despite all his doubts, he was able to go to sleep with the warm sensation of Lupin stroking his hair.


	5. Chapter 5

Thanks for all the supportive reviews! w I'm going to try and get the next chapter up either tonight or tomorrow at work, since I'm in the groove at the moment. Hehehe.

**Chapter Five -- Waking Up**

It was maybe three seconds of blissdom after Harry woke up. He was comfortable, relaxed, and someone was holding him protectively. Instinctively, Harry curled closer into the chest of whoever was holding him, but reality immediately thrust itself into Harry's face when he felt the hands arms around him. The night before... Ron and Hermione... the mirror... caught by Lupin...

He felt sick to his stomach. Lupin had found that he had been hurting himself, and he had been _sobbing_ last night like a baby on him. He wrenched himself out of Lupin's grasp, even though, deep down, he regretted it. But it was time to get back to reality.

"Good morning, Harry," Lupin said sleepily, smiling at him warmly, as if nothing was out of the ordinary. "How did you sleep?"

Harry was at a loss for words. He didn't know what to say to Lupin. He couldn't be honest and say that, for the first time in ages, he had slept well. That would give Lupin the impression that he was _dependent. _But he didn't want to worry Lupin more by lying and saying the opposite. He just stared dumbly at the man, who didn't seem to take any notice of Harry's silence as he stretched, and stood up.

"Shall we check to see how your cuts are holding up?" Lupin asked conversationally, leaning against the dresser casually. However, the look in his eyes was serious. Harry turned red, and looked down. He had forgotten his chest was wrapped in a bandage, but there it was, the white wrappings managing to stand out against his pale skin.

"Sure," Harry muttered. He hesitated, almost scared of what he would find underneath.

"Let me," Lupin said, noticing Harry's hesitation. Oddly, Harry didn't object as Lupin unbound the bandage, unwinding it back around his chest. Harry looked away. "Well, they're definitely looking better," Lupin commented approvingly. "It looks like it shouldn't even scar at this point."

Harry let out an involuntary twitch. He didn't really want his scars to fade. They were a reminder of his failure, something to make sure he would never forget what a horrible person he truly was.

Lupin, however, mistook the twitch for a tremble, and he gently urged Harry to sit, pushing him down carefully onto the bed. "You all right, Harry?" he asked, pulling up the blanket and wrapping it around him.

"You don't need to do that," Harry said, his voice in a harsh monotone. "You don't need to be nice to me like this. I know I'm just being stupid."

To his surprise, he realized he _was _trembling.

"Harry, listen to me," Lupin said firmly. "You are _not _being stupid. Don't you remember what I told you last night?"

Of course he did. That it was okay and healthy to grieve, that Sirius' death wasn't his fault... He gulped, and looked down. "But... you were closer with Sirius than I was. He was your best friend for years, and I only knew him for a few..."

Lupin frowned. "And just because I was his friend means you shouldn't be allowed to be upset? Do you realize that makes no sense, Harry?"

Harry felt his shaking only intensify. "No... I just... I mean, if anyone should be this upset, it should be you, not me."

Seeing Harry's shaking, Lupin sat beside him and wrapped an arm around him. "I _was _upset, and it will always be sad," Lupin replied quietly. "But you know what? I feel the same way about your parents, and everyone else I lost in the First Wizarding War. But I let myself grieve. And even though it hurts, I let myself get better."

Unable to speak, Harry nodded. He hated that he felt like he was going to cry again. Lupin must have had some sixth sense to sense this, however, and gently pulled Harry back into his chest, where he began to cry again. These weren't wracking sobs like the night before-- his body must have still been tired from that or something. But now, he felt he sounded even more baby-like, with his tears coming out in whimpers.

Despite how much like a crybaby Harry thought he sounded, Lupin rubbed his back. Again, Harry felt oddly comforted. He wasn't used to people doing this sort of thing for him, but it felt... good. It was as though someone was protecting him. Yet Harry was still hesitant about trying to be closer-- what if Lupin just ended up pushing him away? As his tears began to fade, he tried to pull himself away from Lupin, but this time, Lupin held on.

"What is it?" Lupin asked. "Do you not like this?"

Harry flushed, and shook his head vehemently. Lupin chuckled.

"Well, why are you always so eager to get back up?" He _had _gotten himself out of bed rather quickly this morning. Harry panicked. Now did Lupin think he didn't like him? In hindsight, Harry would probably realize that his thoughts were all over the place, but for now, anything that _could _go wrong seemed like it _would_.

"I don't know," Harry mumbled. Lupin raised an eyebrow. Harry _did _know. What he was worried about was that now that Lupin was comforting him, Harry would lose him. It was as though anyone tried to be a parent to him, something jinxed it. His own parents had been killed, Sirius was killed, and Mr. Weasley had gotten attacked by a snake... It was a miracle nothing had happened to the overbearing Mrs. Weasley yet.

Harry sighed, and Lupin let go of him reluctantly. "Well," Lupin said, clearly trying to inject some positivity into the room, "Would you like me to get us some breakfast?"

Blankly, Harry nodded. He wasn't hungry, but it would be nice to have a moment or two to gather his thoughts. Plus, Lupin was probably hungry.

"All right, I'll be right back, okay?" Lupin replied patiently. Again, Harry nodded. He felt like a robot. Lupin frowned, and opened his mouth as though he was going to say something, but then thought better of it. He turned and walked out the door, and Harry's eyes glazed over as he watched Lupin leave the room.


	6. Chapter 6

Okay, now we're getting more places now. And no, I'm not going to have Lupin call Harry "cub", I think that name is kinda dumb, IMHO. :x Anyone else agree with that statement? I don't even know who invented that nickname. It just seems eeeeveryone here at FF uses it. Also, my next chapter will be angstier, I think, once I think of what it should be about. ^^ Reviews are loved. Wahhhh I wish Lupin didn't dieeeeee.

**Chapter 6 -- I Need You**

Harry didn't move for several minutes after Lupin left. He just stared at the closed door, willing himself to think. However, his mind seemed to be completely stuck. Slowly, he managed to unwrap the blanket from around him, and looked around. He had left his pajamas in the washroom, but he didn't want to risk going there, and risk seeing anyone else. His eyes were still puffy from crying.

Though he pondered looking into the mirror at how his cuts were doing, he decided against it. He didn't know if his reflection would be just as mean here as it was in the washroom. Instead, he just looked down for himself.

Lupin had been right. Without that magical salve Lupin had used, his cuts would have been large, tough scabs. But because of Lupin, it was as though they were healing faster than ever, and only thin, healthy scabs remained of what had been there. Looking at them, he felt utterly disgusting. _This _was what he had been reduced to? he thought bitterly. Someone who had to hurt themselves this much to feel relief?

More tears began coursing down his cheeks, though he didn't try to stop them now. Instead, he took off his glasses, setting them on the desk beside the flask that Lupin had. They were so smudged with dried tears that they were impossible to see out of, anyway.

Lupin was right, he knew deep down. He did need his time to grieve. Not just the loss of a friend, but the loss of a father. Without Sirius, he was alone again. Sirius had been able to understand things that Ron and Hermione never could, and he could make Harry feel better, no matter what was happening. Hell, he helped keep him sane through the Triwizard Tournament, hadn't he? Harry smiled weakly, despite himself. Sirius had always been there.

His smile faded. Who would be there for him now?

There was, certainly, a yearning for Lupin to be that for him. That much was undeniable. He was the last attachment that Harry had to his parents, to Sirius. He could understand everything Harry had been through, and he could see that Lupin was definitely sure in his desire to help him. However, there was still that worry. What if Lupin would end up rejecting him? What if he didn't even really want to be anything for Harry? Was he really doing this out of obligation, or out of genuine caring? Or, if he did truly care, would he end up just getting killed or hurt, like everyone else did? He didn't want to lose Lupin the way he lost Sirius.

"Harry?" Lupin's quiet voice was at the door asking not for permission, but rather more of a statement that he was back. He opened the door with one hand, and the other held the wand that levitated a tray of food. "Molly donated some of those banana-chocolate chip pancakes Ron was raving about," he told him, smiling wryly.

"She only makes them on Sundays," Harry said slowly, confused.

Lupin shrugged. "I don't know. I think she's just worried about you, Harry. Everyone is."

Harry could feel his face turn red. He wondered about voicing his thoughts allowed, but he lost his nerve. He looked down. "How're Ron and Hermione?" he asked instead.

"Worried, but I assured them that I'm taking care of you," he responded. Harry felt warmth grow in his stomach up through his chest. Lupin... was taking care of him? He supposed that must have been what he was doing, but to hear it come out of Lupin's mouth was another thing.

He hesitated. It was now or never. "Remus," he began, his voice trembling. Lupin waved his wand, and the tray settled on the desk. He then gave his direct attention to Harry, his eyes full of warmth.

"Yes?"

"I... I don't know."

Harry couldn't say it. He couldn't ask Lupin if he could always be there for him, to protect him, to be a father. It sounded needy, and he knew it. Lupin frowned. "Why don't we sit down for a minute?" he asked. Harry nodded silently, and plopped onto the bed. Lupin then strode over, sitting beside him and looking at him seriously.

"I don't like seeing you like this, Harry," he said quietly. "You've been cutting yourself rather than let yourself open up." Harry looked down. He didn't think he could look Lupin in the eye after that statement. "I just want you to know that... I'm here for you. If you ever want to talk, or anything... That I'll listen."

Harry surprised himself with not crying this time. He had been such an emotional wreck that everything had been setting him off since last night, but he seemed to be calmer now. Maybe... Maybe he _could _say it...

"Did you hear me, Harry?" Lupin asked, frowning. Harry nodded slowly, but he couldn't bring his eyes to Lupin's.

"I... Remus, I... I need you."

There. He said it. Now all he needed was a reply. His felt as though he was dangling off a cliff, until Lupin would say something that would either make him plunge or be saved.

He felt Lupin's hand on his arm. The hand gripped him firmly, but not too tightly. With a gulp, Harry fearfully looked up at Lupin. He didn't know why he was afraid to do so, but he was. So he was relieved to see that there was nothing but caring etched into the older man's face.

"Harry," he said quietly. "I will _always _be here for you. I mean it when I say I truly, truly care about you."

It was a surreal feeling. Harry almost didn't believe it. "So," he said, his voice even quieter, "will you... be my family?"

Lupin didn't even respond. Instead, he wrapped his arms around Harry, pulling the boy in, which he gladly accepted. Harry wrapped his own arms around Lupin's waist, clinging to the man for comfort that he was unused to. Lupin rubbed circles into Harry's back, and Harry could only curl closer into Lupin's body for it. If Lupin was going to reject him, he would have done it by now.

"Of course I will, Harry," the man said gently. "You're my best friend's son. I know he wouldn't want you to feel alone, always hurting. So I'll make you mine."

Relief flooded every pore in Harry's body, and he allowed himself to fall limply against Lupin; he was no longer tense. "You'll never leave me?"

"Never," Lupin said firmly. "I'm going to stay with you, Harry. I promise, I'll protect you as best as I can."

Again, the tears began to fall. But this time, he didn't try to stop them. He finally allowed himself to enjoy the sensation of Lupin caressing his back. The other hand that gripped him lightly stroked Harry's upper arm, going over the raised white scars. Harry didn't push him away this time. For the first time in what seemed like forever, he let someone comfort him.


	7. Chapter 7

I know, it's been a while since I last wrote... but I really wanted to get back to it. So I bit the bullet, got through Ron and Hermione's bit, and now hopefully, things will move on more smoothly! Sorry for such a short chapter with very little Remus!

**Chapter 7 - Everything Will Be All Right**

Harry didn't want to break away from Lupin's embrace. He felt his breath begin to steady, and he found himself curling up against Lupin even more closely. It felt nice to be protected. Had he ever felt truly protected before? Being held in someone's arms made him feel like nothing could ever hurt him.

He didn't know how long they stayed like that. He had closed his eyes, wishing the rest of the world away.

"How are you feeling, Harry?" Lupin asked, not stopping his rhythmic stroking of Harry's back.

"Better," Harry replied, slowly. He paused, unsure of how to voice his next thought. "I… Nobody's ever done this for me before. That I can remember, anyway."

He opened his bleary green eyes, and looked up at Lupin's face. A pensive look had crossed it.

"And I find that terribly wrong," he replied, almost shortly. "To know that you're safe, comforted… loved… is something everyone should have. Everyone needs a sanctuary."

"Like Hogwarts?"

"Like…" Lupin paused, grasping for words. "Like _someone _to lean on. Like a parent."

Harry said nothing. It was something everyone else seemed to take for granted, he realized. Maybe even Lupin had himself. But the older man went on.

"Like… someone to hug you when you're down, or share triumphs with, or be encouraged by. Someone who wants to watch you grow, and take care of you on that journey and beyond. Forever."

Harry closed his eyes again. He felt Lupin chuckle weakly.

"I… regret not being there for you sooner. Maybe you wouldn't have…" he hesitated, unable to say it. Harry didn't want to say it, either. He hated to say the words "hurt myself".

"It's okay now, though," Harry murmured back. "I'm happy you're here for me at all."

* * *

It must have been late afternoon by the time Harry finally mustered up his Gryffindor courage to leave Lupin's room. He knew he had to talk to Ron and Hermione—and probably Mrs. Weasley—to apologize. Hot anxiety began to bubble in his chest about it. But Lupin had reassured him.

"Come back when you're finished, if you're not feeling any better," he had told Harry firmly. "Everything will be all right."

Tentatively, he knocked on Ron's door. His breath was caught in his throat, and seemed to be suspended there even after the door swung open.

"Harry?" Hermione asked, surprised. He saw Ron sitting on the bed behind her, looking at him warily. Hermione looked confused for a moment—she had made a movement that looked like she had wanted to give him a hug, but she seemed to have caught herself. She must be scared of me, Harry thought guiltily.

"Hey, guys," he replied weakly. "Can I come in?"

"Of course," Hermione said, her voice full of obvious relief. Moving out of the way for him, she let Harry come inside, and she quickly resumed her place at the desk chair. Stacks of parchment was on the desk, along with several formidable textbooks. Looks like she hadn't stopped working at all.

Harry didn't say anything for a long moment as he leaned awkwardly against the wall. Ron continued to look at him with his odd, uncertain look while Hermione distracted herself by fiddling with the hem of her shirt.

"I…" he began. Both pairs of eyes shot up to him. "I just wanted to say… I'm sorry. I've been a real ass lately."

Finally, Ron's look broke into one of pure relief. "Yeah, you have been, mate."

Harry laughed weakly, while Hermione started admonishing him, telling him to be nice or some other nonsense.

"It… It's just been… I haven't… been the same… since Sirius…" Harry tried saying, his voice cracking. He coughed, pulling himself together. "I just haven't been myself."

Hermione nodded, almost eagerly. "Yes… I should've been more sympathetic…" she told him, her regret clear in her eyes. "I've never lost anyone close to me before. I hadn't an idea of what you were going through."

"I was so… _angry _that things just seemed so normal for everyone," Harry told them. He sunk to the floor, and leaned his head back against the wall. "And being here, without him… it felt so _wrong_."

Silence descended on all three of them. It was an awkward sort of silence, the kind that Harry wished he could break, but didn't know how. Finally, he said, "I wasn't mad at _you_… just how things were for _me_. I was being selfish."

"No," Ron said slowly. "You weren't. We should have been more… understanding."

"But I was," Harry went on, his thoughts beginning to cloud with self-hatred. "I was being so selfish, just thinking of myself… there's so many bigger things going on in the world, and all I could concentrate on was how _I _felt…"

"Stop, Harry," Hermione said firmly. But then she softened. "Grief is normal. It doesn't make you a bad person, or selfish, even."

She was beginning to sound like Lupin. Reluctantly, Harry nodded, which seemed to convince her. Ron looked down at Harry worriedly.

"So… is everything going to be all right with you?" he asked. Harry took a deep breath.

"I think so," he said. He hoped so.


	8. Chapter 8

Please don't hate on me for a rather unpleasant chapter. No wonder it took so long to write! I promise I'll write more, even if it isn't immediately. I'll do my best, though! I've also been busy lately writing a novel of my own (anyone want to edit?), and then getting into Nanowrimo next month. Remember: Don't hate, procreate! And thank you all so much for the wonderful reviews! I probably would have given up on writing this completely if it hadn't been for all of you!

**Chapter 8 - On My Own Again**

After Ron had convinced Harry to tell Mrs. Weasley the same thing he had told his friends, she immediately went into overbearing-mother hen mode. She made Harry a very large dinner (as though large dinners were a problem-solver) and immediately made plans to get the kids out of Grimmauld Place, all the while blaming herself for not being more sensitive to Harry's needs.

"But this is what you want though, right, Harry?" Hermione had asked anxiously. "Not to be surrounded by Sirius' memories?"

That much was true, Harry had to confess to himself. But now that he had become rather… close with Remus, he was unsure if he wanted to leave yet.

So, he had simply replied, "Right."

Ignoring his somewhat heavy heart, he began packing his things up, folding them in a messy sort of way, and packing them into his suitcase. Even though they hadn't been there long—just a couple days, right?—he and Ron had managed to make a right mess of their room. Ron in particular.

"When we get home, we can at least practice Quidditch again," Ron chattered. "I'm worried that I got bad over the summer, so you're going to have to help me, Harry."

Harry found himself laughing. "If anyone will end up having gotten worse, it'll be me. I haven't really played since Umbridge banned me."

Ron wrinkled his freckled nose. "I guess you're right. But still, you never seem to get worse in Quidditch, no matter how many months you don't play."

Harry didn't respond, but he smiled. He rifled through his things, and frowned, and discreetly stuffed his Muggle sleep aid under his socks. He didn't know if he'd still need to use them, but he figured he should keep them, just in case.

And his knife. He frowned. He knew he shouldn't bring it… but he needed to find it.

"I'll be right back," he told Ron cheerfully, and jumped up. Ron, having been distracted by some week-old candy he found in his suitcase, nodded as he forgot all about cleaning and dove into the sweet.

He ducked into the bathroom, and looked around. In a heap on the floor lay his pajama shirt from last night. He flushed as the memory resurfaced.

"_I knew you'd be back_," his reflection had told him.

"_I'm sorry_," he had told Lupin.

"_Don't be. You didn't do anything wrong_," the older man had replied.

A shadow crossed through Harry's body as he lifted up the pajama shirt, and the knife fell out of it with an almost innocent _thunk_.

"It looks nice, doesn't it?"

Harry stood up, and was vaguely aware that his reflection was talking to him. He stared at the knife in his hand.

"Yes, you love how it feels in your hand, and how the blade feels against your skin… You sick freak."

Harry's fists clenched. "That's a lie," he said firmly. "It's healthy to grieve."

"But cutting yourself just means you're a freak," his reflection replied nastily. "'Oh, look at me, I don't like to feel anything, so I try to cut it out of myself—'"

"Shut. Up," Harry said, feeling like he wanted to break the mirror apart. The reflection sniggered.

"You just don't want to admit that you can't handle feeling anything that isn't _nice_. That's why you think that Lupin is so nice—"

A very real anger flared up inside of Harry.

"Why am I even talking to you?" he said suddenly. "You're not even real. You're just a nasty old reflection. Why, you're even worse than Mrs. Black's portrait downstairs!" He started to laugh, then faced the mirror.

All that stared back at him was his own reflection, albeit with a smug look on its face. _A nasty old reflection that's still me_, he realized. Slowly backing out of the bathroom, he darted quickly, rapping on Lupin's door breathlessly.

As if the reflection lived inside him, horrible thoughts crept into his head. "_Bothering Lupin again? Such a lowlife, can't handle your own stupid problems_…"

The thought in his head instantly made Harry regret knocking on his door. But Lupin opened it before Harry had the chance to make a run for it.

He smiled tiredly. "How're you doing, Harry?" he asked. The nasty voice in Harry's head began saying something about how unwelcoming Lupin was now, but he ignored it—at least, he tried.

"Well, the Weasleys are taking us back to the Burrow," he told him. Lupin raised an eyebrow.

"What brought this on all of a sudden?"

"Mrs. Weasley decided that being here… at Sirius' house… wasn't good for me, and thinks I'll feel better if I'm not here," he replied frankly. To his surprise, a look of relief seemed to cross Lupin's face.

"That sounds reasonable, actually," he said. "Being kept here isn't good for you, Harry. It's too full of… memories."

A look of doubt must have crossed over Harry's face, for Lupin immediately looked stricken. "What is it?"

"It's… nothing," Harry mumbled, but Lupin caught on. His look softened.

"It truly will be a better environment for you."

"I guess."

Lupin laughed a little. "You'll have your best friend, his family, Hermione, and probably a lot more people who will visit."

"What about you? Are you going to come?"

At this, a faint frown crossed Lupin's face. Slowly, he shook his head. Harry felt something drop in the pit of his stomach.

"Why?"

"I can't impose myself on Molly like that. She'll probably think I'm a part of the problem," Lupin remarked dryly. Harry stiffened. He'd get to leave the House of Black, but would the relationship he'd just made with Lupin… disappear?

Firmly, Lupin grabbed Harry's shoulders. "Don't get sucked into that trap again, Harry."

"What trap?" Harry asked hollowly.

"If I could, I'd take you with me. But you need to be around people like the Weasley's. They're a big, somewhat boisterous, but nurturing family. As for me, I'd be disappearing to the Order or locked up in my room as a wolf. This is a healthier place for you."

In his mind, Harry had already drawn up the conclusion that Lupin just wanted to get rid of him, so he nodded blankly.

"I'll write to you at _least _once a week," Lupin added, his voice almost stern. "If you ever need to talk to me, write right away. I can come to the Burrow to visit, or… or something. I _promise_ you, Harry. I am _not _giving up on you."

But deep in his heart, Harry had given up. Lupin was only saying this to make him feel better, he knew. He wouldn't write back to Lupin's letters. He always was better alone… wasn't he?

_Of course_, the nasty voice inside him said. _Always_.


	9. Chapter 9

Wow, it's been so long! I hope I don't disappoint. I've recently been in and out of the hospital for things similar to what this story is about. Too bad I don't have a Remus, ya? Anyway, my own shtoof gave me a ton of inspiration for this chapter. Reviewers get candy [but they need to come to my van to get it!].

* * *

**Chapter 9 - Dead Inside**

Life with the Weasleys passed by ever-so-slowly. Harry put on a really strong effort to be, well, _normal_. At least for the others' sake. He spent his days playing modified Quidditch with Ron, Fred, George, and Ginny and doing his summer homework with Hermione around the big dining table. He made sure that he smiled regularly and made fun conversation.

But the numbness inside of him was as strong as ever.

Lupin sent letters more than promised—he got them probably twice or three times a week. They were always very reassuring, but grew more and more concerned as Harry didn't respond. There was, Harry concluded, no reason to respond. He should just stop being a bother to his old professor.

At this point, he had even stopped reading the letters. Better to not even get his mind _hoping _of getting any sort of devotion from Lupin. He didn't need it; he shouldn't need it. Eventually, Lupin would get the hint.

_Bang! _Harry jumped as he heard a sound coming from the twins' room that seemed to be a small cannonball and was accompanied by the sound of shattering glass. Thunderous footsteps marched up the stairs toward that room and Mrs. Weasley's voice broke through the stunned silence.

"_If you broke another window, I'm going to throw the both of you out of it!_"

Despite himself, Harry smiled. Whatever they were making sounded promising. He rose from his bed and stared out the window. It was a sunny day, but Hermione had pulled Ron away from their daily Quidditch games to get him to finish his summer schoolwork. So Harry got the room to himself… for a little while.

What was tonight? The moon was waning, he figured, so Lupin was probably recovering from his monthly wolfishness. And he'd probably get a letter soon.

Guilt got him in the gut once more. He _should _write back… but he couldn't. There had been no reason Harry should expect their… _familial _relationship to continue. The older man had gone out of his way to help Harry out. That was all. Somehow, Harry had convinced himself that Lupin only did so out of obligation—not love or caring or any more of that bullshit.

Harry's fists clenched and he went straight to his trunk. Though he had tried to stop cutting, he reverted right back to his old habits as soon as his doubts about Lupin began to seep in. He pulled off his shirt and looked at himself in Ron's mirror.

"Tsk, you should really put some salve on those marks," the reflection told him. Harry blinked, not even bothering to respond. While he was grateful that this reflection wasn't as terrible as the one at 12 Grimmauld Place, it did nothing to quell the deadness and self-loathing he harbored within him.

Taking his knife, he began to cut again.

God, why couldn't he just be _normal_?

A humorless smile spread across his face as Harry looked at his handiwork. It was better of him, he decided, that he was acting normal now. At least nobody would be getting suspicious. He blotted at the blood with a tissue. Even the fact that he wore long sleeves all the time went unnoticed by the massive Weasley clan.

He pulled one on, gingerly putting his arms into one sleeve at a time. He paused, frowning as he saw one of his cuts had soaked through the fabric. He lifted the sleeve and peered under. It wasn't a bad cut, but it _was _wider than usual. But at least the fabric was dark, so unless someone was staring at his sleeve, nobody would notice.

He crept downstairs and looked over at the table where Hermione and Ron sat, doing their work. Did Hermione _ever _stop working?

"What subject are you doing today, 'Mione?" he asked, his faux-cheerful voice sounding surprisingly convincing. She looked up at him and sighed dramatically.

"Arithmancy. You wouldn't _believe _how time-consuming it's becoming."

"And _I _can't believe how time-consuming _working _has become," Ron added glibly. Hermione shot him an exasperated look.

"That's why we've gotten free periods this year. It isn't just for goofing around! It's for actually—"

There was a rapping at the door. The three of them looked at each other in surprise.

"Mum, are we expecting anyone?" Ron called.

"That'd be Remus, let him in!" Mrs. Weasley called back. All of a sudden, sheer terror shot through Harry. No, no, _no_…

"I'll get it, then," Ron said with a shrug. Harry, however, had begun backing toward the door. This didn't go unnoticed by Hermione.

"Are you all right, Harry?"

"Yeah, erm… I just… need to go to the bathroom," he said lamely before nearly bolting from the room.

God, had Lupin said he was going to come for a visit? Maybe he _should _have read those letters, Harry thought regretfully as he dashed to Ron and his' room. He could have planned to be far, far away at this time.

He sat on the bed, frantically hoping that Lupin wouldn't come in here. He couldn't face him. He didn't want Lupin to worry about him, or to see that Harry had kept on hurting himself…

The minutes passed by like mini-eternities. The only sound Harry could focus on was the pounding of his heart, but then, it was interrupted: footsteps, creaking up the stairs.

Should he get out his Invisibility Cloak? Why didn't he think of it sooner? Then Harry remembered that it was buried beneath some sort of luggage, and he didn't have enough time to look…

A gentle knock at the door and Harry felt as though the wind was knocked out of him. He said nothing, but the door swung open anyway.

There, looking as tired as ever, was Lupin.

"Hello there, Harry," he said with a smile, oblivious to how nervous Harry was. But then the smile faded. Maybe he _had _noticed; Harry realized a moment too late that his body had started to shake. "Are you all right?"

"Y-yes," Harry replied. He had forgotten how kind Lupin's voice was, and he longingly ached for being cared for by this man, the only connection to his family and to Sirius.

"I just wanted to visit because you haven't been returning my letters. Are you _truly_ all right, Harry?" Lupin's eyes quickly fixated onto Harry's arm. Confused, Harry looked back down at it and to his horror, the stain had grown. Lupin looked back into Harry's eyes, full of sadness.

"I knew something was up. I should have come sooner."

"Remus, it's nothing, I—"

"Then take off your shirt for a moment, Harry."

Defeated, and still quivering, Harry slowly pulled up his shirt, revealing the myriad of cuts, scratches, and scars that covered his arms and chest. Lupin began to approach, but Harry took a step back. Immediately, he regretted it, because Lupin's looked hurt.

"Harry…"

"I'm sorry," Harry mumbled, looking down. Slowly, he began to sink. "I'm so sorry. I just…" Should he continue? Despite all of his fears about Lupin until now, just being in his presence again made him almost feel… safe. "The pain. It isn't gone. I… I think I'm dead inside."

He heard Lupin approach him. "Look at me, Harry," he said quietly, and Harry slowly did. "I'm going to help you. I told you that I'd be your family, didn't I? And this is what…" He paused, struggling to get the words out. "This is what a parent would do for their child. I'm going to help you."

"I can help myself," Harry replied coldly. Lupin's eyes flickered back to his arms, and Harry flinched.

"I think it's out of your control now," Lupin replied slowly. "I'm going to help you now, Harry, whether you want it or not. I'm going to help you heal."

Hesitantly, Lupin reached out and ran a hand through Harry's messy hair.


End file.
